


Five Things That (Probably) Never Happened to Jack Aubrey

by fits_in_frames



Category: Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 12:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1510082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of them could have happened, he'll never tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things That (Probably) Never Happened to Jack Aubrey

I.

The bottles strewn on the floor and the sounds coming out of his violin are strikingly similar: haphazard, disjunct, reckless. Stephen, for once, is not reprimanding him. Indeed, he is producing similar patterns with his cello and empty flasks.

Speech in this room is fuzzy, and he barely hears what Stephen says as he sets his instrument down (so careful, he thinks), gets the violin out of the way, and kisses him.

 

II.

"Jack."

"Stephen."

"You always come in late."

"So do you."

"In a completely different context, Jack."

 

III.

For the first time since they've arrived in the Galapagos, his clothes lay in a crumpled in a heap on the floor.

It's night and there are no candles and it's pitch dark and he's been sitting here since noon and he doesn't care anymore. His face is raw from his own rough hands scrubbing off the tears so that when Killick comes in only to be told to go away, he won't notice anything different. Killick stopped coming after seven o'clock, or whatever time it was in this damned place, but he's learned he can never be too careful.

The ship, _his ship_ , rocks slightly and the tiny piece of metal that came out thirty seconds too late rolls into his hand. There's no glint of blood on it anymore: it's all over his hands, even though he only sees a few streaks on his fingers.

Traditionally the captain performed the service when someone died on his ship, but Stephen wasn't actually on the ship and he couldn't see straight anyway.

After hours of staring at it, he picks up the cello and a split second later, as if outside himself, hears splintering wood.

He no longer cares if Killick sees him cry.

 

IV.

He wakes up with a faceful of black--not brown, black--hair and his hand against skin which drastically contrasts his own color. The owner of both shifts slightly in his sleep.

In the back of his mind, he knows that last night will catch up with him at some later date, but the only thing that bothers him at this early hour is that he doesn't know how he's supposed to pay.

 

V.

He's on solid ground.

He opens one eye slightly, hears Stephen's voice, and realizes his shin is causing him excruiating pain. He looks down and sees it's covered with a large grey cloth, with spots of reddish-brown poking through. He opens his eyes all the way, looks pleadingly at Stephen, as if he were a miracle worker rather than a doctor.

The last thing he remembers before lightheadedness overtakes him is Stephen putting something wood in his mouth and saying, "I'm sorry, Jack."


End file.
